Monotony

I wake,
and I sleep,
and I wake,
and nothing’s changed.

The shower still scolds, pleasantly.

The walls still suffocate, appropriately.

The body still rebels, pathetically.

Dreams are the only solace from mundanity.

Just a small poem from the depths of my notes app to preface a small update. Now that I’ve finally got the time to sit down and write, poetic inspiration just isn’t taking hold. I’ve made leaps and bounds in terms of writing my novel, yet, whenever I sit with the intention of writing poetry, nothing of worth seems to happen. I’m severely lacking inspiration, and it’s rather frustrating.

To my fellow poets I’d like to ask — where does your inspiration come from? Perhaps having an insight into other minds may spark something within me.

I will be uploading another installment of Morbid Curiosity sometime soon. I was going to upload it today, but it felt insensitive to do so given the nature of the article and the recent death of Queen Elizabeth II. So please do keep your eyes peeled for that, I promise it will come soon.